


darkest child

by milcbowl



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, During Timeskip (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Eye Trauma, Gangbang, M/M, Molestation, Murder, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Past Violence, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23094364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milcbowl/pseuds/milcbowl
Summary: When Dimitri goes missing, Felix sets out to find him.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 97





	darkest child

Reports of Dimitri's disappearance reach Felix almost as soon as he leaves Garreg Mach. And as much as he tries not to feel personally responsible... the boar always needed him. 

Being needed... that's what he tells himself in the quiet, dark places of his mind when the dawn threatens never to arrive. That he's needed, wanted. Dimitri _needs_ him. 

He doesn't, but it's such a nice and convenient paper-thin lie to feed himself with. 

And he always was a sucker, desperate for the boar's approval. His... _wanting._

So he sets off in the search of an answer to his own selfishness. 

&

It takes a long time. 

He doesn't much mind. Felix was never one for the creature comforts of home and hearth, and one shit bed's just as good as any other. 

All the searching would have been fine even if he hadn't ended up finding the boar at the other end of his journey, just so long as he got to feel useful, needed, and worthwhile. A loyal retainer, a boon to the kingdom. 

He just didn't expect to find his future king... like this. 

The sounds are first. 

The discarded parts of his armor second. 

The stench of blood third. 

Felix dismounts slowly, his steps carrying him over what can only be called piles of corpses. 

In the midst of them all, Dimitri's cock weeps as he laughs. 

His eye is bleeding. Profusely.

What the fuck is wrong with his eye?

"Have you come here to fuck me, too, Glenn? You wouldn't be the first." 

A body groans and twitches to Dimitri's right, only for the spear of his lance to be driven through it a second later. 

The twitching ceases instantly. Yet again, Dimitri laughs, the sound false and hollow and hysterical. 

"I'm not Glenn, boar. You let all these soldiers fuck you like a common slag? For what, to make yourself feel better over tearing them apart like the wild boar you are?"

He nudges one of the bodies with his foot. Sure enough. Death by lance. 

Felix thinks he might retch. 

"Felix was right. Isn't that funny, Glenn? All this time, we wanted nothing more than to be like you, and here I am, the very antithesis of your honor..."

"I'm _not_ my fucking brother, boar, stop calling me Glenn."

"Do you think he would hate me for this? For what a pathetic wretch I've become?"

"Just a little bit," Felix mutters, sighing as he looks around them. It's a slaughter. There's no way around it. It's just... bodies. It's hard to even call them soldiers, not with their cocks out, all in varying states of undress. "What the fuck did you do, boar?"

&

Colors surround him, washing the encircling palate free of his sins. Red floats at the edges of his vision. He can only see so much, but so much of what he can see is red. 

There's something in his eye, he's sure of it. Someone told him that, though it feels an eternity ago by now. He has to get it out, outout _out,_ maybe if he can just reach, peel back the lid--

"Boar." 

Ah. Yes. He's not alone with the shadows of red surrounding him, is he? There's someone here, a ghost from so long ago. Cum drips from his ass as Dimitri lets out a soft laugh. 

Glenn is here. He remembers. 

He remembers. 

He re--

"Boar!"

There it is again. Dimitri can feel tusks growing from his mouth as if in response. His fingers move up to feel along his teeth and find them lacking. Maybe if he can just... bite, prove that they're there, that he truly is a boar, ruthless and wild--

"Glenn," he says, unable to help but smile. "It has been such a long time."

"I'm not Glenn," the ghost says. 

"Felix must be so jealous-- he has missed you so. How selfish of me, to imagine you first when he deserves his brother... but I suppose, miserable wretch that I am, I also deserve the scolding you will give. You are here to scold me, aren't you, Glenn?"

"I don't even know where I'd start. Maybe the part where you can't tell me apart from my fucking brother?"

"I have killed so many," he starts, his still-gloved fingers digging into the blood-soaked soil. Will even weeds still deign to grow here? Perhaps the seed of the soldiers still leaking from him will take to the ground and make it fertile. Perhaps he can be useful still, even like this... "All in the name of survival, all so I can get my revenge. I may not deserve to live or to take the lives of others, but the lost and fallen deserve to be avenged, don't they, Glenn? Don't you deserve your righteous retribution? You've told me so often..."

"You're insane," Glenn says, and he can hear his mother chime in her agreement in his right ear. Ah, to feel her again...

"And yet, if I cannot do so with honor... I certainly understand why he would hate me. I have abandoned my kingdom, handed it over to a madwoman due to nothing more than my own ignorance, lost a dear friend for the sake of saving my own hide... if Felix could see me now--"

"He is seeing you now."

"Does that mean-- oh, by Sothis, has he-- is he--? Oh, Glenn, say it isn't so. Of all the deaths--"

"I'm not dead!" Glenn says, and Dimitri lets out a soft laugh. Oh, how often the voices, the ghosts have said as much, seeking to drive him mad thrice over, to take away the last shred of separation between here and reality-- 

Getting on all fours, he lets his fingers dig into the soil beneath. A spot of ground not littered with the many, many dead... untainted by his horrible influence--

"Of course not. You live on in my memory. And I will plant rosemary for remembrance so none shall ever doubt my devotion... oh, Felix, how loved you were. I would plant daisies and gardenias, too, but I'm afraid they withered all when my mother died..."

Withdrawing his fingers from the blood-dampened earth, he ceases his attempt at making divots for planting and instead presses one, then two long fingers into the ground. It's not enough. His glove is torn off the next moment, and he tries again, his cock jumping as he shudders. "Oh, Felix, so long have I thought about it, I barely even remember my shame. But it is there, so raw and filthy, this desire to see you on your knees. You'll forgive me, won't you? Now that I can no longer soil your body? Or will you hate me for soiling your memory with these dreadful, unprincely wants, I wonder..."

&

All the blood has drained from his features. _Surely_ it must have. Felix's knees feel impossibly weak even as his hand tightens around the hilt of his sword. 

As if he would ever cut down his king. 

"Boar," he says, his voice coming out as more of a croak than anything else. He feels ill. 

There's no reaction. Felix takes several long strides over more of the dead, doing his best to allow his feet to only strike ground instead of flesh. 

"Boar," he tries again. Dimitri has sat back on his haunches, but his fingers are still fucking the ground, Felix trying hard to pretend he doesn't care about that or the things he's been saying. 

He's thought about it? About him on his knees? About _fucking_ him?

This isn't... he can't keep doing this. He can't stand here and listen to this, to watch this. His heart won't-- no, his _head_ won't stand for this. There's nothing rational or reasonable about it. 

"Pull yourself together, boar!" he shouts, and Dimitri laughs, still seemingly lost in the fringes of his daydreams. 

"The soil will sprout new life, and I will worship that which grows, for I cannot die while all others around me live-- what a curse it is to be king, but perhaps my seed would be enough to take root, to call you home to me, oh, _Felix_ \--"

 _Enough_. 

Dropping to his knees before him, Felix grabs hold of the boar's shoulders to shake him. 

"Boar! Focus! I'm-- I'm right here!"

It does nothing. Or-- so it seems at first. Dimitri lifts a slow hand to Felix's cheek, his gaze and smile both sickeningly warm. 

Dimitri laughs. "Oh, Felix... but I do miss you. Even though I know how you must have surely died loathing me."

Felix pays him no mind. "What the hell did you do to your eye?" he hears himself ask, his voice a shaky rasp. 

There's no answer, just that same vacuous stare. 

"Boar! Listen to me!"

There's no recognition in his eyes, Felix finally letting out a slow sigh. 

"Dimitri-- _Dima_ ," he corrects himself before slapping him clear across the face, the prince's gaze finally settling on him. 

He almost looks... aware, for the first time since Felix's arrival.

"You look like shit, boar. We're going home."

"I-- I can't go home, Felix. Cornelia-- D- _Dedue_ \--"

His voice cracks. He's falling the fuck apart, plain for anyone to see. That's great. Fucking phenomenal.

"Whatever happened doesn't matter right now, do you hear me, boar-- Dima?"

"I..."

He's too fucking heavy. Even without his armor, there's no way Felix can get him up on his feet without his assistance no matter how much he tries. Fuck-- he'll have to somehow find his clothes again and put them on him, he's a fucking toddler. How much did he train in the last few years, anyway?

And honestly, what the fuck happened to his eye?

"Get up. Get up, boar. We need to get you-- fuck, I don't even care. I'll take you back to Fraldarius territory if I have to, but we can't _stay_ here. You'll get an infection. Maybe-- shit, she's from Fhirdiad, isn't she? Fuck, we can't stop there, not if you can't go to the capital... I'll send something to Annette once we get back to Fraldarius, yeah? If the court healers can't do anything, Mercedes would be our best bet to look at that eye..."

"Felix," Dimitri starts, his gaze dangerously unfocused as it spans across the battlefield. "I am not deserving of your forgiveness, or your faith. I am sorry."

"Don't be an idiot. You may be obsessed with the past, but I'm more interested in getting you off your ass right now. So just get the fuck up, and--"

He almost has it. All he needs is a bit of leverage. The problem is that the ground is damp and slippery, loose earth doused in the blood of... dozens, hundreds, more? 

His hands hooked under Dimitri's arms, he only barely manages to get enough purchase on him to lift when his heel gives way from where it was dug into the ground beneath him. 

His leg gives way, he skids, and braces himself for impact. 

He lands ass-first, but his breath is knocked out of him only moments later with Dimitri sprawled atop him. 

It's almost hard to breathe. 

"You're-- you're crushing me, boar--"

&

The sweat of bodies all around him was such a comfort that he can't help but miss it, the memory of the scent stinging at his eyes. It was so easy to forget, to just let himself be fucked by anyone. For once, his hands were useful for more than killing, for once they could pleasure and beg. Even his mouth could do more than spew lies and false promises. 

To not have to think about statecraft and assassination attempts and dead friends and family and faculty-- chasing that pleasure had become euphoria-inducing.

And then they'd come and tried to run away, and, of course, he couldn't let that happen, not with the sorts of people they were, bandits and enemies of the state, assassins and mercenaries eager to report back to Cornelia that the true king is alive, after all-- 

His spear is faster than their legs, and before he knows it, even the others start to chicken out. The cock in his ass withdraws and he lets out a withering wail before killing all of them in one fell swoop. 

He is covered in blood and sweat and cum, and when he sees another man attempting escape, it is all too easy to pick up another dead soldier's lance to throw, the javelin easily and cleanly penetrating the man soldier from behind. 

"Dima!"

Oh. He's been subconsciously rutting against Felix hasn't he? 

Lifting himself onto his forearms, he keeps the rest of his body flush against him, a slow smile coming over his features. 

"Ah... Felix. You're still here."

"So nice of you to notice. Can you kindly get the fuck off of me now?"

 _Isn't he beautiful?_

The whisper is as familiar to him as his own right hand. He'd recognize his mother's voice anywhere. And--

She is right, of course. Felix _is_ beautiful, even if Dimitri isn't sure that he's ever noticed it before, at least not... consciously. But he is. He always has been, he supposes. Here, now, his hair is fanned out-- haphazard in its scatter across the ground surrounding him like a messy halo. 

How fitting for Felix. 

"Such feminine features," he mutters, his hand coming up to trace his cheekbones. "Do you remember, Felix? When people used to ask if you were my girlfriend?"

"Boar--" 

"I remember those days fondly. How you'd cry for me to remain at your side. I wonder what it would be like to taste you... taste you and not have to kill you after. You'd forgive me, wouldn't you, Felix? you've forgiven me for so many things..."

"You've gone mad," Felix rasps, his body starting to resist, attempting to wriggle out from beneath him. 

_How silly of him,_ his father weighs in, Dimitri unable to help but smile at the sound of his voice. _To think, that he actually thought he'd have a chance._

For a moment, Dimitri simply tightens the hold his knees have on Felix's legs, hips bearing down on him to keep him from escaping. But then he captures one of his wrists, too, just for good measure-- and grabs the other hand before it can get away, lifting it to press a soft kiss to the knuckles. 

"Of course I've gone mad. I've been trying to tell you for so long... though I suppose you never did care to listen. How careless. Well, I do suppose you know now." 

Dimitri offers him a smile and then turns to look at his hands. How troublesome. He needs to undress Felix, but if he'll struggle... 

Repositioning him like a ragdoll, he lifts Felix's wrist to meet the other, easily pinning them both in place.

"Boar," he says slowly, _"stop."_

How very silly of him. As if he could stop now. 

Working the buckles and laces, Dimitri does not stop. Felix keeps fighting, but it's background noise at best. At one point he growls, a sad, pathetic attempt at baring fangs he doesn't have, and Dimitri thinks about how much prettier he'd be if he was crying, just like they were kids. 

"You did use to cry for me, didn't you, Felix? I wonder if you'd cry for me now...? I would treasure your tears now just as I did then."

&

Felix thinks he might be ill.

"You're sick, boar."

"Yes," he laughs, delight edging its way into his voice. It sounds like a pathetic joke, a nightmare he might wake up from any moment now. 

But even his nightmares wouldn't be this cruel, wouldn't make him think that Dimitri would-- 

His brain skids to a halt.

What _is_ Dimitri doing? Maybe it's not as bad as he thought. All he's done so far is hump him and kiss his hand.

His fingers are skimming his innershirt almost reverently, a stark contrast to the wrists pinned over his head, the hips pressing into him... struggling is pointless, he knows at least that much by now. 

Maybe he just needs--

"I forgive you, boar," he hears himself say, swallowing hard. "All right? So can we just be done with this and go back home now? You're bleeding on me."

"Hm? Hm." 

The fingers formerly skimming down his front now take on a more exploratory quality, pawing their way over his shirt before arriving in a small puddle of blood invisible to the naked eye. Red on black is well-hidden, after all, not that he can be too upset about that. This is a nice jacket, and there's still hope for Dimitri yet. They can go home, they can fix him up--

"Aha," Dimitri lets out a soft laugh, grinning up at Felix as newly blood-stained fingers find his eye. "This? This is not my blood, Felix. This is the blood of every man I have ever slain. The blood of hundreds-- nay, thousands, perhaps. It's an honor--"

Maybe if he tries to use his own hips as leverage? Or to startle him to release and let go, to move away. If only Dimitri wasn't so fucking _strong--_

Thrusting his hips up against him, he lets out a sharp grunt.

"Felix!" Dimitri exclaims, his smile somehow wider as he lets out another laugh, this one bright and happy and _wrong,_ all wrong coming from the throat of a madman disguised as his friend. "Ah, Felix, I always knew you wanted me, but-- I realize now just how much I must have underestimated your desire. Ah, I may not be kind, but I have always been a giving man..."

"You've got it wrong, boar," Felix snarls, still trying to fight the bonds of his would-be captor. All he has left to struggle with _is_ his hips, he's not-- he doesn't _want_ the boar to get the wrong idea. "Fucking knock it off!" 

Struggling, as good of an idea as it might have seemed at first, turns out to have been a mistake. All it's doing is exhausting him and rendering him short of breath. If he's going to have to fight the boar… fuck, he might as well save it for when it's really necessary, and it's not even like-- aside from opening his mouth-- he's doing anything untoward. Not yet.

And then Dimitri lets his fingers skid down between their bodies to arrive at the front of his crotch, and Felix starts to get _nervous._

"Dimitri," he says, quietly this time.

"Mm, you don't have to keep lying anymore, Felix. It's… quite all right… now that I know."

Felix almost can't believe what he's hearing as clumsy fingers make quick work of the laces covering his groin. Has the boar gone completely mad? He must have. Otherwise--

"You're wrong." His throat feels like sand. 

Dimitri's gaze upon him is slow and unsettling, terrifyingly serious compared to the levity from before, the joy at Felix's apparent 'confession' in attempting to get away. "Felix," he says, the sound all gravity and no hope, "it's terrible to lie to an old friend like that. No matter how much you may loathe me… even you must realize how rude it is."

His open palm and roving fingers find the budding presence of Felix's erection just past his laces, a small smile returning to his features. "See?" he asks slowly, his wrist working to make Felix shudder against his will, "this is far more honest than that mouth of yours."

"Dimitri." 

The anger has gone and disappeared from his voice. Is he trembling? It's-- it's a matter of friction, he knows. He shouldn't care, but he does know, he _does,_ knows that he's a liar in love who wants nothing more than to be touched, but not like this. 

And when Dimitri's roving fingers find their way under fabric to skin, he shudders regardless. 

" _Stop._ "

A hollow request. He knows it will get him nowhere, knows that Dimitri can see through him as though he's translucent. That, or he's just a mirror: he knows it's Felix he's touching, but it is not important in the least.

Felix isn't sure which option he prefers. 

"Oh, Felix… how could I stop now?"

&

Dimitri does not fault himself, even if he perhaps ought to. He is being selfish, just a little bit. 

Even if Felix wants this-- and oh, _he does,_ he can see it in his eyes-- Dimitri thinks he might just want it more. 

He's always been selfish. Felix taught him at least that much. He's had to become the thing with tusks in order to survive in the wild, blood left in his wake with every step he takes. 

His touch tells him the truth, fingers slowly wrapping around Felix's erection. 

"This is the most honest part of you… wouldn't you say, Felix? I wonder if it would make you sing." 

Like a little bird, he imagines. Beautifully and reverently for his Dima.

For his _king._

The arms previously pinned above him are pulled back down along with Dimitri as he marks his own descent down Felix's body. Trapping his calves beneath his own requires no more effort than trapping his thighs, and Dimitri smiles up at Felix through hooded eyes. "Ah, but I do prefer you when you are obedient for me. I am… sorry about that, Felix. I simply wish to make you feel good."

He doesn't feel too sorry, or maybe it's not sorry enough. If Felix tries to escape, he can't. If he does anything regrettable… well. 

His ghosts are more loyal and loving than Felix has been in many years. 

What he wouldn't give to have that Felix back, the sworn young friend of his that would have done anything to please his sweet prince. 

Or did he, too, die in Duscur? It's so hard to piece together the broken scraps of his memory. 

"I _don't want this,_ " Felix lies once more, Felix's smile turning somewhat sad.

"You'll have to forgive your old friend, the beast of Blaiddyd, just this once more, then," he says, and sinks down the length of his erection. 

A strangled groan escapes Felix, a thrashing motion signaling another futile attempt at escape from his body's own truths. Too afraid of what he already knows, too frightened of recognizing how hard his cock is, not wilting even for a second in the face of the monster above him. 

His cock twitches in Dimitri's mouth once, twice-- and again, when he takes him all the way into his throat, Felix gritting his teeth as he lets another grunt leave the confines of his heart place where he keeps all his honesty and none of the lies of his lungs. 

He wonders if seeds can sprout green from soiled ground, if a garden can grow in a desert, and decides that _yes,_ that it's precisely what Felix has been doing all along. His oasis is trapped and hidden, but no less lush. 

The desert is a terrible place, and he wonders what it would be like to tear into Felix's sanity so solidly that his lies dissipate entirely, until there's nothing but lush, lush greenery and water as far as the eyes can see. 

But-- just for him. 

A watering hole of candour just for him.

Resurfacing from where he'd buried his nose in the coarse hair at the base of Felix's cock, Dimitri pulls off of him with a laugh, lapping at the side of his length as though it, too, was life-sustaining. 

_Honest._

"This is for your own good," he explains simply. Felix is gritting his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as his hips tremble from the exertion of _not reacting._

He's not always successful.

"You could just admit that you want this," Dimitri says, his fingers dipping into the oasis and teasing at its entrance. "Ah, but I suppose that would be impossible for you as you are… I will have to try harder." 

Sitting up, he tears Felix's pants off of him easily, only scraps left behind sticking out from his thigh-highs. Perhaps those can stay. 

"Would your cum be as honest as your tears, I wonder? As loyal?" He considers it, considers drinking him down until he's just as broken as he's convinced Dimitri is. "Won't you sing for me, Felix?" 

Once more, he lets himself sink down his length, worshiping his cock with his mouth, his tongue, his spit until he isn't sure that this _isn't_ what he was always meant for. Felix's eyes squeeze shut, his teeth grit when Dimitri looks up at him, straining not to make a sound. But his hips can't fight forever, bucking up into Dimitri's mouth for more. 

Of course Felix wants this. He's always belonged to him, hasn't he? Ghost or not. 

Felix haunts his dreams with broken promises and hope for the future, but he knows that hope is hollow because his father has told him so, and thus, there is nothing more to lose and everything to gain. What he wouldn't give for the pleasure, the _certainty_ of knowing that Felix does want him even in spite of everything. That he can't help it. 

That it's in his very blood just as the Crest of Fraldarius is. 

&

Felix wonders who could forgive him for his sin. 

Is there someone to take pity on him? Someone to see, to recognize that he cannot forgive himself, and yet he must be forgiven? 

His hips buck up to beg for _more_ from a madman. It's impossible to deny. No matter how hard his nails dig into his palms or how desperately he gnashes his teeth together, he still _knows_ and has to live with the knowledge derived therefrom. 

He's _weak._

For so long he's thought himself above his silly little obsession with the boar. A thing of the past, something reserved for the weepy young thing he used to be. The weepy young thing in love with Dimitri, Crown Prince of Faerghus. 

The weepy young thing still buried deep inside of him, locked away for too long only to resurface in the form of the most pathetic of moans. 

He thinks about coming down his prince's throat and shudders. Squeezes his eyes shut to keep out the truth. 

But there is no point, no use to the exercise whatsoever. Not when the truth hides behind his eyelids, behind every quiet moment he allows himself. 

He _knows_ that nothing has changed, that he still wishes he could shake Dimitri and beg for him to come back from-- from _this._

The boar still wears the face of his sworn childhood friend, and so there is no denying the pleasure to be found in his affections, in his touch, however warped it may be.

Maybe he deserves this. After all, it was he who deserted Dimitri, he who gave up on him without so much as a hint of compassion or a glance back at the waste of a man he was leaving behind. 

Maybe this ruination is his doing. 

Maybe holding out is pointless, his pride already a thing of the past. All the same, he wonders how long it will take him to crack. It won't take long, he imagines. But he can play a game with himself all the same, make Dimitri earn his rewards if he wants them. 

Wait. 

Does he want them?

Blinking down at the wash of blond hair and blood, yellow and red melding together until the horizon, the bodies around them are just afterthoughts, he lets out a shuddered sigh as Dimitri's tongue dances its way up the underside of his cock, reverent. 

Why is he doing this? For ownership? Or because he actually… actually cares about him still, in spite of all the betrayal, the abandonment and heartache.

There are tears in his eyes, he realizes faintly. The world is blurry because he's crying. 

Blinking them away, he renews his struggle, attempting to free his hands. If only he could pull the boar up by his hair and shake him, maybe then he could get a coherent, straight answer out of him-- 

Instead, he pulls off of his cock and laughs, the sound empty.

"Why do you fight me so, Felix? We both know you want this. Even if you haven't come yet, I can still taste its promise..." 

Darting his tongue out, he gathers up a single droplet of precum having gathered at his tip. 

"You can't _taste_ anything," he grits out, resisting the urge to spit.

"Forgive me the figure of speech. Ah, Felix… how I do wish I could taste every part of you." Leaning down, he allows his tongue to rove up and over the bony protrusion of his hip, Felix squirming again. It _tickles,_ which feels more out of place than anything else. He wants to leave, wants to get out of the boars arms and run until he can't run anymore, throw up his memories of this event and forget why he even came here or that he did. 

"Just take what you want from me already. It can't be that fucking hard. You're already doing such a good job of helping yourself to whatever you think you're entitled to. Just one more step and you won't ever have to come back from the brink of madness."

 _Shut the_ **_fuck_** _up, Felix._

"I remember how you used to whine unless you could do everything with me," Dimitri says softly, Felix feeling a little as though he's had a lance shoved through his heart. 

(He checks, just in case.)

"This, too, Felix?"

This, too? 

The obvious answer is yes. Yes, he did always wish he could be just as entitled as Dimitri was with him... _is_ with him. The thought of him taking a woman to bed made him sick, and that has changed little.

But he doesn't want to _fuck_ the boar, even if he's disguised as the boy he once thought he loved.

Except that he does, and he hates himself for it.

&

"Ah, but I can't trust you to be honest, can I. I suppose I'll just have to see for myself." Looking down at the holes he's made in the ground, he wonders if Felix's body will be as pliable, as soft and ready for him. 

"You always were so fucking _entitled,_ " Felix practically spits, Dimitri unable to help but smile up at him.

"I know. It is… truly a shame that it should be you who is always punished by my selfishness, Felix." 

"Spare me and get this over with. Just rape me like we both know you're going to."

A soft bit of laughter, bird-like, truly, flits its way past his throat and into the world as he shifts, slowly moving up Felix's body, up, up, up, until they are face-to-face again, Dimitri hovering above.

"Such wicked words upon that wanton tongue," he whispers. "Perhaps I shall steal them?"

" _Nmm--!_ "

Dimitri kisses him before he can truly object or voice his displeasure, the _no_ remaining trapped on his tongue for him to taste. Perhaps he ought to gag him? But no, no-- he wants to hear his moans of pleasure just as much as his attempts at derision.

Felix's lips are soft, softer than they have every right to be, and Dimitri finds himself smiling when he pulls back to look down at him. "Ah… I should have kissed you before now, Felix."

For just a moment, genuine rage seems to enter Felix's expression, Dimitri drawing back before he has the chance to headbutt him. A roar of anger follows in the wake of his failure to hit his intended target, and, the next thing Dimitri knows, a lob of spit strikes his cheek to the sound of his laughter.

"How _dare_ you!"

"Felix, please."

"You can shove that _please_ up your ass, _Your Highness._ What am I to you, a _toy?_ Something to own and toss aside when you're tired of playing me? Well _I'm_ fucking tired of _you._ "

"I could never tire of playing with you, Felix," Dimitri says, slowly licking his lips. "We did it so much when we were little. Ah, but I do wish I had a better way to restrain you… this is getting cumbersome." 

Felix has always been weaker than him, and pinned like this, there is no contest between the two of them. So Dimitri lets go of his hands, allowing himself the freedom to pry Felix's mouth open with one of his hands, the other pressing two fingers inside to wet them.

His hands are batting at him, trying to claw at him or fight his grasp off, but they're just as useless as his other attempts at resistance, as ineffective as the belabored moans or protest leaving his throat.

"I wouldn't have to do this if I wasn't afraid you'd bite me, Felix. You must know; I do not wish to hurt you."

More noises of protest follow, but Dimitri pays them no heed, just wetting his fingers on Felix's tongue before allowing him to finally close his mouth once more. 

Pinned as he is, flipping him over is… easy, Felix letting out a low growl as his cheek presses into mud. Gathering up the remains of the spit upon his cheek, eager to wet his fingers as much as possible, Dimitri lets out a triumphant chuckle, more exhale than laughter. 

"I do wonder how you'll feel… open to me and only me." 

Reaching behind him, he allows his middle finger to start pressing inside of Felix, tight enough to make him shudder. He doesn't wish to hurt him, not really, instead taking his time to get him acclimated to the feeling, fucking in and out of his ass until he's panting and loose enough that adding a second finger seems a simple thing. 

And it is, Felix's hips bucking forward and into the ground with a grunt.

"You are still a virgin, aren't you? You must be. You were always meant to belong to me. I have not fucked anything, either, but I can assure you that it feels good to be used and to forget everything just for a little while."

" _Fuck you._ "

"Oh, I intend to." His attention returns to the wondrous sight behind him, two fingers now working in and out of him, slow.

"You are so beautiful like this, Felix. But then, I suppose you have always been. It is a shame you are so bad at expressing your feelings, else you might have had more female admirers at Garreg Mach than anyone."

&

"I wouldn't have wanted any of them."

It's true, regrettable as it is. The only person in his life that had ever felt irreplaceable had been Dimitri.

And then he became a beastly, unrecognizable thing. 

He isn't recognizable now, either, not _really,_ though Felix knows that's a lie he's trying to tell himself, anything to stop from seeing his old friend in the eyes of a madman willing to reclaim his friendship by force.

But he does. It's impossible not to see him, not to see the mercy in his eyes-- when has he been merciful? Felix isn't sure he wants to know-- or the desperation to be reunited with his sworn friend. 

He's fucking him faster now, two fingers scissoring inside of him. They hit something sensitive on occasion, which always manages to make his cock twitch against the well-trodden earth beneath him, hips grinding into it for more friction. 

_Pathetic._

"I would like to taste you, Felix. I wonder if I might be able to make you behave…?" 

There's still fight in him, he _knows._ But it also feels… pointless, meaningless to try when he already knows what the outcome will be. 

Dimitri is stronger than him. 

His lack of an answer doesn't stop him. Withdrawing his fingers from Felix's ass, he grabs hold of both of his wrists and pulls them behind his back, easily holding them in one hand. He's being positioned like a ragdoll, he realizes, his participation more or less meaningless as he's pulled onto his knees, half his face still mashed into the dirt as Dimitri pushes his legs further apart. 

He feels… so open.

His cock throbs, precum leaking onto the soil below him as he growls. Not that it deters Dimitri, not that he expected it to deter Dimitri. 

Instead, he feels Dimitri press a tongue inside of him, greedy, his arms pulled back by his wrists, shoulders aching with the knowledge that one tug would easily dislocate them from their sockets. 

His arms are in agony, but he knows just as well that the tongue shouldn't feel good, that the fingers shouldn't have felt good, that none of it should be something he _wants._

Even if this is the only way he can be with Dimitri. 

Who knows, maybe once he becomes sane again-- _if_ he becomes sane again-- he'll be wracked by guilt and finally treat Felix the way he deserves. 

Like… more than just a friend. 

It's not a question of whether or not he could ever forgive him for doing this. He knows he already has, pathetic as he is. 

It's a question of whether Dimitri could ever look at him as more than just a toy, more than something to rape and own. 

"You disgust me, boar." 

Either Dimitri doesn't hear him, or he chooses not to, his attention too focused on Felix's ass, which has slowly begun to gape, bit by bit. 

Where his free hand had previously aided in holding him open, now it moves to wrap around his cock, jerking him off in slow, practiced motions. 

Once more, his memory snaps back to how he found him, covered in cum and blood and surrounded by bodies. Of course he's practiced at this. He's fucked dozens of soldiers. 

This time when he speaks, he doesn't sound so much angry as he does resigned, his voice bordering on small. For him, anyway. 

"Are you going to kill me after this, Dima?"

That stops him, Dimitri pulling back to sit on his haunches.

"Why would you think that, Felix?"

"Look around you."

The stench of copper and sex is still heavy in the air, though it occurs to Felix that it could simply be a matter of proximity. After all, they've been fucking… and Dimitri has been bleeding. It doesn't have to be from the many dead around them.

But it could be. 

&

Dimitri listens… and looks. 

Dead men? He's not sure what that has to do with Felix, warm and alive in his grasp. _Still._ Still warm and alive and by his side as though he never left.

Why would he want to kill Felix? 

Abandoning his selfish desire to continue eating him out, Dimitri wraps himself around Felix's form from above, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck.

"Is that truly what you think me capable of, Felix? Adding you to the pile of corpses in mind? My sworn friend..." He sighs, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, of the expectations of his forefathers and all those who have fallen before him. "I see. I cannot fault you for that. It would hardly be the first time that I have cut a man down in his prime. But one so important to me? No, Felix. I have always… cared deeply for you."

Beneath him, Felix lets out a dry sob. 

"I could never kill you, Felix."

"You never know. It might be a mercy."

"Is there anything you would have me do? You may not believe me when I say this, but I do not wish for you to suffer."

"Then just fucking end this! By Seiros, rape me already and get it the fuck over with!"

"It is hardly fair of you to call it that, Felix, when you are so very, very willing and eager." Letting go of his wrists, Dimitri finds Felix's cock again, pulling him close as he starts to stroke him. "You've been dripping for me since the very beginning."

" _Fuck_ you."

He decides to take it as an invitation. 

It takes very little effort to maneuver him _just right_ until he can line up to slide inside of him, a grunt escaping along the way. 

" _Ah,_ Felix--"

He doesn't stop stroking Felix's cock as he keeps working himself inside of him, slow and steady, and Felix doesn't stop bucking his hips back against him. Almost as if he's desperate for more attention, for anything at all. 

As though it is just as he expected, and he's enjoying this, no matter how much he protests. 

Felix grunts when Dimitri bottoms out inside of him, letting out a sharp sigh as his hips still. 

"What are you fucking waiting for, boar? _Move_ already."

"I doubt that would be comfortable for you, Felix," he mutters, fingers playing at his hip. He's not even restraining him anymore, but it is just as he said, isn't it? Felix is still very much here. 

"Don't start giving a shit about my feelings now. Fuck me, dammit!"

This time it's Felix that pulls forward and rams back onto his cock with a hiss, and Dimitri decides to take that, too, as an invitation. His own hips echo Felix's wish, one arm wrapping about his chest, arms and all, to pull him close. It's so _easy_ to shift him up and down his cock like this, Dimitri gasping as he tucks his face into the crook of his neck. 

Felis is _moaning._

" _Oh_ , Felix," he whispers, watching as his head falls back against Dimitri's shoulder, his own hips aiding in their sex. There's nothing about this that doesn't look wanton and lewd, his mouth open and panting. 

Either he really wants this, or he's given up, and Dimitri can't decide which one he prefers. 

Perhaps it's a bit of both. 

&

Dimitri was right after all. 

The feeling is overwhelming, and he's _weak_. 

Any resistance he could have ever hoped to level at Dimitri is pointless. _Was_ pointless, all along. Because he's a fool who revels in the attention, who wants nothing more than to be granted the very affection he's withheld from him for so very long. 

Wants Dimitri to love him and ask for nothing in return.

A castle in the air, as it turns out. He's already given everything to Dimitri that he has to give. 

And everything he didn't give him years ago, he's giving him right now. 

Willingly, of all things. 

Is there even a point to getting his pride back if he has to scrape it off of what remains of his sanity?

Maybe it would be easier from a more naive, idealized perspective-- that this was always meant to happen, decided from birth. That his fate was sealed long before they even met and he was promised, sworn to Dimitri. 

The Crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus wasn't sworn to anyone-- no one but his people, and Felix is only one of many. 

Dimitri slams his cock into places he didn't even know existed, Felis bracing himself in an attempt to give as good as he's getting, but it's a pointless endeavor, his knees far too weak to keep from giving out in the process. As if it matters. He had no agency before and nothing has changed since then. 

And Dimitri was right. It's an impossibly, wonderfully freeing feeling to simply be used like this, Dimitri's cock filling him to the point of pain. But-- there's pleasure in that, too, in the stretch around his girth, his body fighting to accommodate his size. 

His head falls back against his shoulder once more, Dimitri moving him up and down his length effortlessly, just one hand wrapped around his hip able to lift his bodyweight sans hesitation-- all while the other keeps stroking him to near-completion. He knows he will have bruises tomorrow and the day after, but it doesn't matter. 

Edging him, he realizes faintly as Dimitri slows his ministrations upon his cock for a fourth time. As though he intends to drag Felix into the realm of madness right alongside him. 

He knows he's making ungodly sounds, moaning in ways only befitting of a whore at best, but that matters little. He's long past the point of caring about decorum, not with his mouth agape and his eyes rolled continually losing focus with each and every thrust. He thinks Dimitri's name escapes him right alongside the rest of the myriad cries as well, but he can't be sure. 

If Dimitri is spoiled, tained goods, Felix is nothing more than his shameful, hedonistic echo.

It's too much. 

Pulling out of him almost completely, even can't seem to keep from striking his prostate, and before he's even fully aware of it, Felix feels himself come-- all over his chest, the tops of his thighs, and Dimitri's hand. Dimitri follows him, his release pulsing, throbbing inside of him until it's all there is and all that matters, only faintly aware of the hand stroking him through the last vestiges of his own orgasm, smearing his cum over his skin.

By the time he finally lets him go, Felix can hardly think straight from sheer overstimulation, just accepting the sticky thumb into his mouth without question.

"Ah, Felix," he whispers beside his ear, the heat from his breath an unspeakable comfort he would never admit to. "I hope you know... I will never be able to let you go now."

Felix knows. He's just not sure he cares anymore.


End file.
